Turned On To L.U.S.T. by Gardner F. Fox

Author:Gardner F. Fox [Fox, Gardner F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Action Adventure, drugs, Erotica, femme fatale, Secret agent, Sexpionage, Vintage Sleaze
Publisher: Gardner Francis Fox Library LLC
Published: 2021-04-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

I sagged down on the chair in the dressing room, all but bushed. There was an ache in my con, in my legs and back. The delivery boy had been something else—I suspicioned that he had been fed a soupcon of Spanish Fly mixed in with the Arabian drug hashish, to give him staying power—and he had performed like the fabled Horatio at the bridges of our thighs.

Mercedes Ramirez was exhausted, too. She slumped on the vanity bench and let her head sink forward on folded arms.

Somebody knocked on the door. "Tell him to go away," she whimpered. “I'm freaked out.”

“Go away," I yelled. "It's Pete Raviola, kid."

Mercedes lifted her head, stared at me. Her lips moved, made silent words. "This-could-be-a break," she lip-pantomimed.

It sure could, but not in the way she meant. I caroled, "Be right there, Pete." I paused to wrap the transparent negligee about my nakedness—I'd lost the open panties during the blue movie bit. I think the delivery boy had torn them in his purplish passion.

Pete was grinning at me when I opened the door. "Get your things on, kid. I got a party I gotta go to to night. I should have a dame to take along. You're it."

"You really mean it?" I squealed. "Sure, kid. Now come on, get your glad rags on."

His eyes were eating at my breasts and belly and what he could see of my pantiless hips all the time his tongue and lips were making words. I giggled like some stagestruck teen-ager and turned to run back to where my clothes hung, giving him a good look at my bare buttocks and legs. Of course, he had seen that much and more while watching the movie, but I al ways figure a guy can't have too much of a good thing.

Off with the negligee, into the bandanna-print blouse and miniskirt. I took my time about changing. Pete Raviola was still in the doorway, ogling the goodies. When I was done, I hip-walked toward him, beaming my happiness up into his blue-jowled face.

"You're my girl, now, ya heart" he growled.

"Honestly?" I squealed, standing on my tiptoes and clasping my hands together. I let my face assume a doubtful look. “But—you mean you don't mind—my acting in a movie like that

"Nah, not that once. It's like with a nothing, that stuff with the Spick girl. Two girls, what's that? Just kids havin' fun. And the delivery boy—hell, he's just a pretty face and a big—well, you know what I mean. There's nothin' personal about it.

"Now if it was Carlos Diaz, or one of the other boys—ya know what I mean? That I wouldn't like. But that stuff ya did today don't count. I hadn't decided on makin' ya my girl, then.

"You won't do it no more, that's understood, hey?"

"Whatever you say, Pete.”

He halted me and gave me a dark look. "How bad you hooked? On the smack, I mean?”

“Not too badly. I can do without. If I have to."

I looked at him inquiringly.

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